Operation: Hot Bitch 2.0

 Intended result of Operation Hot Bitch 2.0

So about a year ago I enthusiastically embarked on Operation: Hot Bitch in preparation of a torrid NYC affair. Both were completed with various degrees of success. But since I started the new job and post-bike smash I have well and truly dropped the hot bitch ball. Winter has rolled around and I’ve been glug glug glugging and chomp chomp chomping whatever I fancied. As always I forget that without doing loads of exercise this free-and-easy diet impacts on the ole junk in the trunk and I feel like a Fat Bitch (as opposed to a Phat Bitch which is what I prefer).

After many a disastrous hangover in the past months I decided to kick it all off by stop boozing completely. Like most peeps, I have this regular thing happening where on a Friday night I have to drink enough booze to drown a dwarf because I ‘deserve it’ because I ‘work hard’. So I obviously deserve the hangover too. Fool!

 Me most Saturday mornings. Out of shot is a Coke Zero and giant bag of salt & vinegar chips

It’s been 10 booze free days and so far surprisingly easy. Unlike other times where I have stopped drinking and have stopped going out completely, I got through my first Friday night by placing myself in heavy drinking situations by going to the pub, then an opening, then book group. It was fun! I realised I could still talk loudly, become animated and be crass without repeating myself, going off on unnecessary tangents and smoking a gazillion cigarettes. This time it seems easy and the right thing to do so I’m going to stick with it. And there’s so many more hours in the weekend when I bounce out of bed at 7.30am.

As for the exercise, I’ve been doing some pathetic jogging which I hope will improve. It’s always difficult to go for a run before work when it’s cold and dreary outside – screw O.H.B., I’d much prefer to lay in bed and listen to Radio National. But I have found another form of exercise and my first time was almost like a religious experience. Zumba. Yep. I have channelled my inner bogan and embraced the faux Latino samba/reggaeton/booty bouncing exercise craze.

My next zumba class outfit

You basically jump around pulling out continual shimmying and booty shaking, thrusting moves for an hour. My friend and I spontaneously hi-fived after class finished we were so high. I then phoned anyone I could think of who I knew would also love it. Like a good little convert I was breathily (because my face was beet red and my heart was still racing) saying, ‘Come, join me. I’ve found what I’ve been searching for!’ I’m serious.